That the lake remains frozen is a relief. Childermass hadn't expected so much ice to vanish immediately, but the possibility had crossed his mind and having to swim back to shore from the middle of the lake, not a fun idea. He looks down the hole at the candle, a thin tendril of smoke still rising from the wick.

"Because it's only ice and snow," he offers his own two cents. "Creating it all needed the faerie's magic, but after that, it's not so unnatural. I'm sure given enough time, it would melt away on its own."

That said, how about they don't tempt fate and hang out here much longer? Especially since Strange has already mentioned wanting the candle back. You know, the candle down there in the ice hole with few to no handholds down. It's that which spurs him to act quicker than the other magician, trying to cut him getting stuck down there off at the head. He turns to look back at Strange.

"But it'll go faster with you fixing your mess, so let's get back to shore, shall we?"